“Are you going to drive, Harry? Why are we still sitting here?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to calm down. My hands are shaking. My nerves are shot. Your mother has me riled up.”
“Sitting at the stop sign serves what purpose, exactly?”
“I turned the hazard lights on, baby. Commuters can go around me if they’re that much in a rush.”
Swallowing words of anger, Jonathan looked in the rear view mirror. His mother was running up the block towards them. Shouting, crying and incoherent.
His heart pounding, Jonathan ignored the fact that his mother, with an iron fist, put the fear of God in his heart. Truth be told, he wasn’t man enough to face her. He would never tell Harry.
“Can we please go, baby? My mother is about to have Round Two on our car!”
“You know what? Maybe we should stop running from her. When are you going to stand up to her and stop pacifying her irresponsible ways?”
“Stop trying to make me disrespect her.”
Harry turned off the car, infuriated. “Disrespect? When we were evicted, after watching five years of our hard work crumble before our eyes, your mother convinced us to move in with her until we got on our feet. We lied to her, saying we were like brothers, knowing we were married because you were afraid of losing your family because a), you were in the closet and b), you were gay.
“Your grown ass sisters stopped doing their chores. We wound up cooking every damn day, babysitting your nieces free of charge and we had to pay three hundred dollars a month for rent. We were the only ones paying rent while your sisters had a free ride, living off us. We work overnight. I lost my job trying to cater to your mother. For three years we were mindless slaves.
“Your mother bashed us every chance she got. If breakfast, lunch and dinner wasn’t cooked she threatened to throw us out on the street. Your sisters’ baby daddies smoke weed and eat up four hundred dollars’ worth of groceries in two weeks and your crazy ass mother required that we buy more grocery for them to eat up. We didn’t even get to eat any of it. So you might as well say she got seven hundred dollars a month out of us.”
Lynn was pounding on the passenger side window, pleading with her son, Jonathan.
“Open the door, baby. Leave him! I’ll fight that gay devil with you. My pastor will perform an exorcism to get the homosexual demon out of you!”
Harry attempted to unfasten his seat belt, to confront Lynn.
Out of the blue, an all-black Yukon slammed into the back of their car, seventy miles an hour.
Lynn was thrown ten feet back into the street.
The back and front windshield exploded, glass piercing Harry and Jonathan...
Air bags were activated, white powder temporarily choking them...
Amidst screams of terror from spectators and the neighbors, the last thing Harry remembered before blacking out was the blood pouring from a wound in Jonathan’s side...